Scarecrow
by robot-keayleuu
Summary: Luke makes a scarecrow to watch over his Father's grave


He's covered in mud-black bottoms stained with dirt-but Luke Skywalker doesn't mind. You get dirty enough when you bury a body.

His clearing of the forest is secluded, deliberate. In the background a tribe begins to beat an out of tune song, and a chorus of Ewoks sing in their native tongue. Light seeps through the cracks in the trees and insects float through the miasma, like hazy summer ghosts.

The first proportion of the night Luke had spent cutting trees: gathering the branches to build a funeral pyre. He'd been upset, and swinging the axe had been a good way to take it out-one swish and he could hurt something, take all its life away like the way the Emperor did his Father. It was a powerful feeling and soon he was slashing at trees without purpose, leaves spiralling into whirlwinds as he danced between the foliage.

But what was the point? After a while he'd stopped, resting his head in his hands as he thought. Fire would be purposeless—his Father would turn to ashes, and the ashes would go everywhere—Luke didn't want other people to breathe in his Father, to have a part of him in them—he wanted to keep his Father safe, so he could be with him when he wanted. A burial seemed the more suitable solution so he'd dug a hole in the earth and covered it, letting his Father sleep below him.

Still, Luke was presented with a problem. Rotting was quicker to occur in soil-even if he wrapped his Father, detritivores would take his body in time. That was when he realized: he needed to make a scarecrow.

All bodies-dead or alive-emitted a Force signal, and that was enough to trigger panic in any conscious cell. The signal emitted, however was dependant on the beings personality or characteristics, which lead Luke to the conclusion that if he made a scarecrow from the strongest beings, he'd scare away the most creatures.

Its body was made from straw: the scarecrow was humanoid in shape although much larger in size, and when Luke pushed wood to its back and propped it up it loomed over him, casting a shadow. It was a good foundation, but worthless without coverings.

Leia had approached him first, concerned. She'd had the prettiest face, and-in Luke's opinion-terrible things always came in beautiful packaging, which was why he'd cut it out. But Leia's smile wasn't the same when she was pinned up on the scarecrow—didn't she realize what she was a part of? Remembering the softness of her hair, Luke had taken some of that, too, then hung her heart from the rope. Luke's favoured part of her, this went around the scarecrows neck as if it were an exquisite jewel.

Han had come next—looking for Leia. They were so cute, Luke decided and as he removed an axe from Han's back, he felt a little sad that he was the one to take their love away. That was why he'd placed Han's heart next to Leia's on the scarecrow—side by side so they could be together, forever as they protected his Father. Maybe their love would make the scarecrow stronger.

Not all of the soldiers who'd conspired to destroy his Father could become a part of the Scarecrow- each of them held different assets and Luke could only kill what he could catch-all in all it was sort of like harvesting, he supposed.

Most of the soldiers were drunk when he caught them, stumbling around intoxicated or sneaking away to take a leak. And Luke was an innocent, trustworthy figure of authority—luring them in had been easy, getting them alone easier still. Their teeth had been good for the scarecrow—Luke had to cut and stretch Leia's face in order to fit them all in, given her a second mouth to add to the scarecrow's ferocity. Slabs of skin were removed from the soldier's bodies and sewn like patchwork to cover the straw—everyone had to have a part of him on the scarecrow. And the more lives Luke took, the greater the force presence—the better his Father's protection.

A red sun rises, the sky the colour of a bruise. The clouds are peach, cream and ominous, drifting over the sun with a lethargic grace. Underneath them, Luke uses a dagger to join the scarecrows hips, furrowing his brow as he finishes.

The scarecrow was incomplete—he'd run out of coverings. His last victim had struggled, sweat and bled too much, making his skin moist and slippery: unsuitable for the scarecrows frame. Now, a single hand was missing from its body… but that wasn't good enough. The scarecrow had to be finished before it watched his Father's grave, and it couldn't be just anybody-it had to be someone strong. The scarecrow had to be powerful, made from the bodies of the Rebel Alliance heroes so it could avenge and protect his Father. If it wasn't complete then his scarecrow was useless…. and Luke had truly failed his Father. Luke held his own flesh hand before him and clutched his axe tighter in his mechanical one. He drew a breath- closed his eyes- and wondered if he should-

He hears a branch snap and stiffens, throwing a sheet over the scarecrow to hide it.

'Luke! There you are!' From the trees, Luke sees the silhouette of Lando Calrissian, climbing toward him across the clearing.

'Have you seen Han and Leia? They said they'd meet me at the Falcon. D'you think—'

'No.' Luke said sharply, turning his head to look away.

'You look like you're pretty busy.' Lando gestured toward the sheet. 'What's that you've got there, kid?'

'I'm making a scarecrow,' Luke replies, darkly. He's about to usher Lando away, when an idea creeps into his mind and he smiles.

'Hey Lando… You're pretty strong, right?'

Lando grins and stretches his arms over his head-the muscles in his shirt bulging as if to make themselves apparent. 'Yeah… I'd say that. Why—something you need?'

'Oh, it's nothing,' Luke replies, running his fingertips over the blade of his axe.

'It's just, I'm missing some materials. Do you think you could give me a hand?'


End file.
